Fully Alive
by Exes and Ohs. 2
Summary: Sequel to My Best Mistake. JD struggles, hard, with the loss of his kids. His depression takes over, and there's nothing anyone can do for him.
1. Chapter 1

Jeez. I've had a pretty shitty couple of days, let me tell you. 

Wednesday, I had a 5+ hour road trip to Phoenix. My legs and ankles were horribly swollen by the time we got to the hotel (mind you, I'm 33 1/2 weeks pregnant).

THE MOMENT I got to the hotel, I got a call from my kid's dad (we are no longer together), telling me he's joined the Army and volunteered to go to Iraq. So I spent half the night crying. He leaves next week, and our son will be born while he's in basic training, then he goes off for another 16 weeks for extensive training, then he's shipped off to Iraq. Our son will be probably at least 4 months old before he even gets to meet him for the first time.

Thursday morning I was very sick, some kind of stomach flu thing. Unfortunately for me, we were at a family friend's house, and I was feeling shitty all day there.

However, I felt FANTASTIC during dinner, and the dinner itself was awesome and delicious.

Today, on the trip back (which took 7+ hours this time), my sister was throwing up the entire drive. And my ankles and legs are still swollen.

I just had to rant. I'm in a bitter mood. This chapter might reveal my bitter, angry emotions.

3 to my reviewers.

What the hell is wrong with FFN? I didn't get ANY review updates in my inbox for like, a week, nor did I get any updated story updates. And suddenly, they're sending me notifications that I have new reviews when I already saw them days ago.

* * *

"God _dammit_, Newbie, will you watch where the hell you're going?" Dr. Cox growled, looking from the stain on his white jacket back up to me. I wasn't paying attention and ran into him with a full cup of hot coffee. Oops.

"Dr. Cox, I'm sorry, " I mumbled, looking over the nurses station for a napkin, or papertowel, or something to clean up the mess. Aside from being tired and shaky, I now felt horribly guilty for ruining his really nice, white coat. I was seriously going to get hell from him for this.

"Look," he sneered, and I flinched back slightly. I didn't want to be part of this, not now, not today, not ever, really. I kept my gaze on the floor, however; I couldn't look him in the eyes, not after I upset him, and maybe burned him. I was caught by surprise when he touched my chin, making me look up at him. He still looked angry, just not as much. "Pay attention, Kayla. Today, especially, because we've got so many people relying on us. I know that this sucks and this is hard for you, but the quicker you get back into the swing of things, the better off we'll all be."

I've only been back at work for 2 days. It hasn't even been a week since the funeral. I couldn't stay at home anymore, moping and wondering what if. I had to get back to work, to get my mind off things for a while. It hasn't really happened that way, though. I'm out of it, completely. I'm trying to pay attention, and to be the good doctor I know I am, but I can't get my mind straight. But, Dr. Cox is right; I've got to move on.

I know, I know, he didn't technically say _you need to move on_, but that was the jist of it.

Dr. Cox stomped off down the hallway, pulling off his coat. I sighed and looked around for Janitor, to see if he'd clean up the mess on the floor. I felt so drained, suddenly, and I want to cry. Not because of how Dr. Cox treated me - deep down, I was kind of relieved that he was being his normal self - but because I felt like I kept screwing up and nothing I did made things easier or better.

I turned around to walk the opposite direction Dr. Cox walked in, and ran into somebody else.

"Dammit," I muttered, bending over to help gather charts that fell on the floor. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me today."

"Bambi," Carla put her hand on my arm, and I looked up at her. I couldn't stop the tears from welling up in my eyes. "Everything's going to be fine. Just try to keep your head straight. This was my fault," she acknowledged the charts on the floor. "I wasn't paying much attention. I think it's too soon for you to be back here, and maybe you should talk to Kelso -"

"No," I shook my head and stood up. I blinked a couple of times as my vision blurred and darkened for a second. I stood up too fast. "I've got a paycheck I'm relying on, and I need to be here. I'm fine, Carla."

She sighed, then gave me a sad smile. "Do you want to go get something to eat?"

Again, I shook my head. "No, I'm not very hungry right now. Besides, I've got a couple of patients I need to take care of."

I walked away as fast as possible, leaving Carla and the spilled coffee behind. In all honesty, I didn't have any patients. I think Dr. Cox took all of them today. Everytime I tried to get one, he'd already been by. I don't know how he's doing it, because I've hardly seen him around at all today. But there's really nothing to do. I've just been tagging along with Elliot, helping her with her patients. And helping the interns.

Guilt gnawed at me. I'd hardly seen or spoken to Kim all week. Looking at her hurt me. Talking to her hurt me. I wanted to be good for her, and to do the right thing, but I just make people feel worse when I'm around, since I'm so down myself. I know she's not back at work yet, she's still recouperating from her surgery, but I don't know much else other than that.

My mom wanted to stay in town for "as long as I needed her". I told her to go home the day after the funeral, and to take Dan with her. I've been ignoring their phone calls.

I have to get back into the swing of things.

I found myself in the lounge after a few minutes of wandering around. Elliot was in there, going through a patient's chart.

"Hey JD," she said, briefly looking up when I came in. "I can't figure out what's wrong with this guy. Can you please help me?"

Yes! My help was needed.

I sat down at the table with Elliot, and we began going through the chart, trying to figure out what could and couldn't be ruled out. I don't know how long we worked together, trying to figure out what was going on with this guy.

"Hey," she said, looking up from the papers. "I haven't really gotten the chance to talk to you the past few days. How are you doing?"

I shrugged, and didn't look up at her. My arms were itching and I didn't want to talk about anything personal.

"You haven't talked to Kim, have you?" She asked. Great. She was going to keep talking about this, even though I didn't want her to.

"What's there to talk about, Elliot?" I finally looked up. Tears began to well up in my eyes, blurring my vision. My voice cracked slightly. "Nothing's changed. I'm still here, working at the hospital, doing what I can to pay my bills. I still have the house to pay for. I still have car payments, and car insurance, everything. I'm here. What else am I supposed to do?"

"You're grieving still, JD. I don't even know why you're here. You know that you can take another week or two off, you aren't broke -"

"How do you know that?" I snapped, pounding my fist on the table. My arms stung.

She sighed. "Look, I know how you are, JD. You're my best friend, and I hate seeing you like this. Nobody wants you to hurt yourself, and we're all afraid that's what you'll end up doing if you keep forcing yourself to get over all this too fast."

"You don't know shit," I stood up from the table. How dare she bring this up? She didn't know me at all. "You slept with me, that's it. I never meant anything to you. Why lie to me and act like I do? And I'm not getting over anything too fast. There's nothing to get over. Everything is fine, Elliot."

I turned before she could see the tears fall from my eyes. I started walking towards the door.

"I'm going to go check on Mrs. Patrick," I said, hoping to God my voice didn't falter.

I left the lounge before she could reply, or before I could hear her reply, anyway. My arms itched, and I couldn't help but scratch them under my sleeves. I couldn't wait until this day was over. It was turning shittier and shittier.

* * *

I was sitting in the shower, trying to sob quietly. I didn't want Elliot to hear me cry. Not after our conversation earlier. I sort of felt bad for how I talked to her, but she deserved it. She had no right to bring things up that weren't her business, and then act like she knew all about me. She was right about one thing, though. I really didn't need to work for another week or two; I saved my money pretty well. I just can't deal with being alone during the day, and at least at work my mind can stay off of my kids for a little while.

I stood up, then leaned against the walls as my vision turned dark again for a moment. I was getting dizzier and dizzier, and I know it's because I'm not eating much, but it's so hard to eat when you feel nauseas and awful all the time. I think when I ate last (when was that, by the way?) I almost threw it up.

I washed my body and my hair. I scrubbed the new and old cuts on my arms, and just stared at them for a moment. My arms were unrecognizable. They were awful. Criss crossed cuts covered from wrist to elbow. I was out of room and was cutting over freshly scarred skin. I felt sick to my stomach just looking at it, but at the same time, it made me feel so much better. I was able to cope, to breathe, to live.

After I got out of the shower and got dressed, I went into my bedroom to lay down for a while. But the moment I sat down, there was a knock on my door.

"Can I talk to you?" Elliot asked through the door. She sounded like she'd been crying.

I got up, unlocked my door, and opened it for her. I didn't really want to talk to her, but I couldn't be an ass. Well, I could be an ass, but, whatever.

Her eyes were red from crying, and her cheeks were tear stained. Her makeup had been smeared. She looked so sad and miserable.

"I made some dinner for us. You haven't eaten in days, and don't lie to me, because I can see you haven't. Come on," she grabbed my hand, and pulled me toward the dining table, where plates and silverware had been set out.

"Elliot, I don't feel good," I argued, but sat down at the table anyway.

"You owe it to me," she went into the kitchen. "I got Keith to make dinner for us. Don't worry, he's not here." She said quickly when I started to protest. She brought a couple of dishes over to the table, then sat down. "It's just chicken and rice, but it's good, I promise."

I gave myself a small serving, then sighed down at the food. I didn't want to eat.

She began eating, staring intently across the table at me. I could feel her stare like lasers. I took a bite of the rice and had to admit that it was good, but it still didn't make me hungrier.

"I'm sorry for what happened earlier," she said, breaking our silence.

"Don't worry about it."

"I feel really bad about everything, JD. You really are my best friend. I'm just so worried about you. You look sick, and you aren't eating anymore, and you don't talk to Kim. You know how bad she's hurting right now? She lost her babies, too, and losing you on top of that is just killing her."

I looked up at Elliot. I know that she's right about everything she's saying. "I don't want to talk about this, Elliot. Nothing's changed, nothing's different."

"You know I'm right," she looked at her plate, then said nothing. We ate in silence for a few minutes. My stomach cramped from the sudden amount of food in it.

"I just want to tell you one more thing."

"What's that?" I asked, and my stomach clenched. I was going to throw up, I could feel it. I set my fork down.

"You said earlier that you meant nothing to me while we were together," she started to blush a little bit. Under any other circumstance, I'd start to feel embarrassed too. But now I felt like I was really, really going to be sick. I wish she'd hurry up. "I loved you more than I've loved anyone. You meant the world to me."

I couldn't take it anymore. I felt awful for getting up from the table, and all but ignoring what she said, but part of me was glad for this interruption. That was definitely a talk I didn't want to have with her.

I fell to my knees in front of my toilet, and threw up everything that I just ate. My stomach rejected everything, including the coffee and water I'd had earlier at work. I tried to blink the tears out of my eyes that welled up, but my vision wouldn't clear. I felt Elliot's hand on my back, and I heard her voice, but I couldn't hear her words. She rubbed my neck, and started to take off my shirt. I heard her say, "you're feeling really warm, you need to take this off," and I tried my best to push her away from me.

"No, please, please leave me alone," I whispered, then retched again. The last thing I wanted was for her to take off my shirt, see how skinny I really was, see the cuts and scars on my arms, and rush me to a hospital.

She stood up and left the bathroom, then came back a few seconds later with a towel. She got it wet and pressed it to my face. I closed my eyes and rested my head on my arm, which was on top of the toilet. I felt better.

"Come on," she flushed the toilet for me, and grabbed my hand again. She helped me stand up and together we walked to my bed.

I laid down, and was surprised when she laid down with me. She faced me, and I stared at her, not knowing what else to really do. I know I wasn't attracted to Elliot, nor did I love her. And I also know that she loves Keith. But it was such a comfort to have her there.

I closed my eyes when I felt her fingers on my forehead, brushing hair out of my face. Moments later, I fell asleep.

* * *

Hmm. I started writing this chapter not really knowing what to expect. I'm highly against Elliot/JD, and no, they aren't going to get together in this story. I just thought it'd be kinda cute to see them interact. Plus, it opens up doors for more storyline. ;) 


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to my reviews! I LOVE YOU GUYS! 

**AngelsWings5**: I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I know FFN doesn't let you post a second review on one chapter. I'm STILL getting emails, telling me stories have been updated that I read like a week ago. It's pissing me off.

**inuyashalover10**: I don't know wtf it is with JD/Elliot, it just..frustrates me. I think it's because she's kind of whore-ish, and he's kind of .. really picky. I dunno, but the two of them just never really intrigued me when they were together. I do admit, though, I felt bad for her when JD told her he didn't love her after she broke up with her b/f for him..

**CountToEight:** I'm feeling a bit better. Not so sick, but now my shoulders/back hurt from sitting here for a couple of days writing and re-writing this chapter (ugh it took forever..)

**saltoftheearth**: I realized writing this story, I don't write much interaction between JD and anyone but Dr. Cox. I have a thing for JD/Dr. Cox (not really slash, but friendship wise). I'm trying to include everyone but it's hard.

**skankyxxinnuendo**: Being on bedrest and not being able to work, I've gotten extremely bored. I used to watch Scrubs off and on, when season 1 was new, but I didn't really get back into it until Comedy Central started playing the episodes a few months ago. My neighbor downloads TV shows and stuff so I made him burn all the seasons for me. YES! I hope you're better after your car accident. And yay! I feel so accomplished, re-breaking your review cherry, so to speak ;)

**xredneckchiickx**: I hate hate hate when you're anxiously awaiting new chapters of stories and they aren't updated for days at a time. I'm trying to get one chapter out per day, but the past week I've fallen behind in my writing. I'm trying to catch back up. And I dunno why I'm against JD/Elliot, it's just very clichè, I suppose.

**MorganaJeffries**: I don't know if I'm totally against the two being together, it just seems a bit overplayed (as you said). Thank you for your review! Here's the new chapter )

le sigh I've had a decent few days. I'm still bitter at my ex for running off to Iraq, but at least his head's in the right spot (he claims it's to support his son; I hope it's true, jackass). How are YOU guys doing?

I own two cars, and that's really it..plus all the boxes of baby clothes I've accumulated the past 8 months. I don't own Scrubs, sadly.

* * *

_I'm ashamed of all my somethings_

I woke up in a cold sweat. It was dark in my room, and I squinted at the clock beside my bed. It was 2 AM. I don't know what time I fell asleep. All I remember was Elliot brushing my hair out of my face.

I sat upright and looked around. She wasn't in here anymore. She must've gone to bed, herself.

My hair was drenched, and I brushed it back with my hand. I'm exhausted and shaky, and I want to go back to sleep. But I need water, first.

I was almost to the door when I heard Elliot talking quietly in the other room. I pressed my ear to the door, trying to hear her. I'm bad at eavesdropping. Besides, it's 2 AM and it's odd for her to be up at this hour.

"He's taking this so hard," I heard her say. Was there someone else in the room with her, or was she on the phone? "He's not eating, and he's been asleep now for about 5 hours, but he's hardly slept this past week. He's getting so thin, and I don't know what to do."

"No," she hissed. She must've been on the phone. "I'm not calling an ambulance. He doesn't need to be rushed to the hospital." She was quiet again.

I opened the door and tried to pretend like I didn't hear her conversation. Whoever she was on the phone with was against me, it sounded like. Elliot looked up at me from the couch, and I could tell that she felt guilty for talking about me.

"I have to go to bed now, Keith," she said quickly. "I love you, bye."

I wonder if she really was on the phone with Keith.

I walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. I pulled out a cold water bottle, and drank almost half of it at once. I made my way back to my room, avoiding eye contact with Elliot. I don't know what else was discussed when I was sleeping, and I don't feel comfortable knowing that she's talking about me behind my back.

I fell onto my bed, shoving my arms under the pillows. I closed my eyes to try to fall back asleep, when Elliot, once again, knocked on my door.

She didn't wait for me to answer. She walked in and shut the door, leaving the room completely dark, except for the moonlight.

The bed sunk as she sat down.

"I saw your ribs when I lifted up your shirt earlier," she said, and as my eyes adjusted to the dark, I could see her nervously rubbing her hands together. "You look sick, and I know that you don't want me to get involved, and you think you've got this under control, but I'm really scared for you. I mean, throwing up after you eat as little as you did isn't normal or healthy. Your body isn't regulating temperature right. You can't get like this. It's not fair to anyone."

I glared at her, but she couldn't see it in the dark. "It's not fair to me that my children died."

"I know that JD," she hissed, and her head spun around, facing mine. "I don't need you to tell me that. You're the most reliable, capable, determined person I know, and you would've been such a great father. I know just as much as anyone how unfair it is that this happened to you. But it doesn't change the fact that it did happen, and you've got to start moving on, because this isn't doing you any good at all."

"Get out," I told her, and rolled over so my back was facing her. I didn't want to talk to her anymore. Who the hell did she think she was? I don't want to cry in front of her, but the tears wouldn't listen to me, and I tried so hard to quiet my breathing so she couldn't tell.

"Here," Elliot's hand found mine, and she put something in it. "Take this, at least. It'll help you sleep." She brushed her hands through my hair, and God it felt good. "Get some rest, and I'll see you at work." I felt her lips on my temple, and it made my breath catch. Then, I started crying harder. It really was unfair that I was doing this to her. She, and Turk, and Carla - they were all my best friends, and I was pushing them away. And Kim. I was being such a bad person.

Once Elliot left the room, I took the sleeping pill she handed me. I then picked up my cell phone, and called Kim. I had to apologize to her.

* * *

The beginning of my shift had been great. I was in a better mood than I'd been in all week. Kim and I talked for about thirty minutes, until the sleeping pill took over and I couldn't stay awake any longer. We kind of talked things out, and I agreed to see her later after my shift. Dr. Cox had the day off, so I got all the patients I could handle, and I was even able to keep down a small breakfast of toast and a banana. I'd even decided that today, after I saw Kim, I'd go and hang out with Turk and Carla. I really did need to get back into the swing of things. The more I let denial, or anger, or any of those stages of grieving take over, the worse off I was.

But the second hour of my shift, I found myself staring through a dying patients window, and I couldn't help but imagine that patient being a relative, or someone I knew. I couldn't help but wonder, _what if I was that patient's father_? Unhealthy, I know, but it still crossed my mind.

"I don't get it," Carla said, appearing next to me. I looked over at her, but said nothing. "I thought we were doing everything right with this guy."

"Maybe it's because I treated him," I handed her the chart that was in my hands, and walked away without waiting for her to reply.

I ran into the one person I really didn't want to see, at all, ever, when I went into the lounge. Jordan was sitting at the table in there, reading paperwork. My eyes drifted down to her pregnant belly, and my heart jumped into my throat. It made me horribly sad.

"Oh, good, I was hoping you'd come in here," she said, looking up at me. She put down the papers she was looking at. "Sit down, now."

I obeyed. Jordan was the only person I don't think I'd ever talk back to or disrespect entirely.

"Now, I'm going to tell you this because Perry is too manly to say it himself," she reached across the table, and held her hands open, palms up. "Give me your hands," she said, and I obeyed. She gripped my hands tightly, and stared intently at me. "I don't dislike you. I may seem like a cold person a lot of the time, but look at who I'm having kids with. Perry is concerned about you, and he's voiced this concern to me many, many times this past week. He's been distant from me and Jack, and he's taking what happened to you very hard. I can't say that I'm not concerned, as well, " she let go of my hands. "He's told me a few things that the medical board should hear, and I think he was hoping that, by telling me these things, I'd turn around and run my mouth to the board. I won't tell them one thing if you promise me something."

"What's that?" I asked. My mouth was dry. She knew something. She wasn't lying to me, or trying to get me to admit to something. She knows that I'm hurting myself, or that I'm getting horribly depressed.

"Promise me that you will get yourself some help if you start having suicidal thoughts."

I don't break promises. And I don't make promises I know I can't keep. But staring at her I knew damn well that I couldn't not promise that. I crossed my ankles under the table (haha! Crossies count when you make promises).

"I promise," I said, and hoped it was genuine. I didn't need help.

Jordan stood up from the table, and so did I. And she did something I don't think she's ever done - she hugged me.

"I just want you to know," she said softly, still hugging me. "That you definitely aren't alone in this. Perry, believe it or not, would be a great person to talk to."

She pulled away, patted my cheek with a smile, and grabbed her paperwork. She left the lounge without another word to me. I sighed and, right before I was going to sit on the couch to relax, my pager went off. My patient was coding.

* * *

I remember, but at the same time I _don't_ remember, the rest of the day. I was numb, completely numb, on the inside. I was void of all emotion. I tended to the rest of my patients, but I was detached. If any of them died, like my patient earlier, I could cope with it better. Why didn't I ever think to detach myself like this sooner?

I don't know how the hours flew by so quickly. I hardly remember any of them. Just patient, after patient, after patient. Test results, good news, bad news, no news. I was able to tell every patient I had what was wrong with them without one bit of emotion. I don't know if they appreciated that, but I know it helped me more than anyone can ever know.

Then, I did something I don't think I'd ever, _ever_, in a million years, do. I drove to Kim's apartment, still numb and still detached, and walked up to her door. When she answered the door, I hugged her, let her cry on my shoulder for a minute, and then I pulled away.

"I have something to show you," I said. I still stood out in front of her door.

"Are you okay?" She asked, and I knew that she could tell how gone I was.

I'm not ever going to be the same.

I rolled up the sleeves of my shirt, and revealed to her what I'd been hiding from everyone for almost two weeks. Her eyes widened, and I don't know if it was more shock or disgust, but it didn't matter to me. It was disgusting to see, I admit. It was shocking, even to me, because I didn't realize how bad it really was. Or maybe I did, and I just, I don't know, forgot.

"JD, oh my God, " she breathed, and reached out to touch the cuts. I pulled away from her. She looked up at me, and our eyes met; tears fell from hers. I would be crying if I didn't feel so empty.

"I'm sorry," I grabbed her and pulled her in for another hug, and kissed the top of her head. "I'm sorry I can't be the person you want me to be."

"What are you talking about?" She grabbed my hand and tried to pull me inside her apartment. "Get inside, we need to clean those."

"No, they're fine," I pulled my hand from her grasp. "I'm sorry I haven't been around. I know you needed me." I leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "I'm sorry, and I love you."

I pulled the sleeves down my arms again, and I started to walk away. She ran in front of me and put her hands on my chest. More tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"What are you doing, JD? You can't be seriously.." she trailed off, and grabbed my hands tightly. "I'm not letting go of you. I know you hurt, baby, I know, but please, please, whatever you're thinking, or feeling, it'll pass, it'll get easier. Don't leave me, too."

My heart broke. That was the first emotion I felt in hours. The pain in my chest, and the sudden lump in my throat, threatening tears. I gently removed her hands from mine.

"I'm not going to leave you," I said softly, and wiped tears from her face. I kissed her forehead, then stepped around her, and walked down the hallway.

She didn't chase after me again. Part of me was relieved, the other part kind of wished she had. I could hear her crying as I turned the corner to leave forever.

_I'm sorry._

I got to the parking lot, climbed into my car, and drove away.

_I'm sorry._

* * *

:O 


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to my reviewers (YAY all 4 of you!)

**saltoftheearth: **Oh, I updated. But I hope the ending of this chapter doesn't hurt :p

**MeghanthePagan:** Mwahahaha. If you were worried then..gasp I won't say anymore.

**inuyashalover10: **I can't believe Elliot slept with JD when Shaun was gone, and then when he came back, she was like, oh just kidding JD! I was so pissed at her for that. I was like, "YOU WHORE!" I even yelled that at the TV. What a biotch.

**Sky Pad: **Damn, you sent me your review just before I finished up the chapter. That's too bad for you. Now you have to wait a whole day more to read this because of your curfew. Haha for you. And yes, poor Kim. Although now I'm afraid I might be kind of disappointed with season 6 because I'm so into THIS plotline, rofl. As for my ex going to Iraq, he volunteered to go so he could kill people. I think he honestly sees it as a Counterstrike or Medal of Honor computer game, rather than real life, with real civilians and real people trying to kill you. But, that's boys for you.

**POV has changed.**

* * *

**Dr. Cox POV**

I was drinking my fifth - eighth? - glass of scotch, staring down at my son from the couch. He was sitting on the floor, watching TV and playing with some annoying toy that kept playing music everytime he pushed that _God damned button_. And if I had to hear one more of these stupid songs, or hear that stupid chick say _"This is serious!"_ one more time, I was going to punch a hole through the TV.

Jack loved it. He got so into these stupid shows. I mean, yeah, he's only 3, what can I expect? One day he'll be able to enjoy some ESPN, some History Channel, some manly shows with me. For now, I have to sink to his level and watch this crap.

I finished the glass of scotch and sighed. I was one damn lucky person. I had a shitty, shitty childhood, and I struggled _hard _to get to this point in my life. No way in hell Jack was going to have the same abusive, terrifying, dark childhood that I had. I wasn't the greatest father, but he had everything he needed, wanted, and all the attention he could ever crave. Jordan wasn't a bad mom. We were trying. We didn't want him - or his soon to be brother - to be miserable.

These thoughts keep leading back to Newbie. Why do I insist on calling him that, anyway? It's habit now, I suppose. As well as with the girl's names. I feel bad for him. Awful. I was lucky that Jack was healthy, and that, knock on wood, Jordan and her pregnancy were healthy. Of all the torment that I put him through, I should at least be the person in his spot.

Or maybe I should just be a friend to the kid. I wasn't very easy on him when his dad died. Ever since he came into the hospital, he has been there for me, as much as I hate to admit it. I don't hate to show emotion, I just had people being sympathetic to me. Newbie always knows when I need that extra push, that little help, and he's always been there.

I'm scared for the kid. Watching Jack babble and talk to the TV, I can't help but feel horribly guilty. I know that if I lost my son - or, rather, sons - I'd be absolutely devastated. I took the deaths of those transplant patients horribly. How would I be if my children died? I might sometimes hate the fact that I no longer have all the freedoms I used to have, but being a father has given me so much hope, so much unconditional love, so many great memories. If I had the chance to erase the past 3 years, I wouldn't do it. And Newbie, he doesn't get _any _of these experiences, at least not now.

I can only imagine how he's feeling right now. When I threatened him months ago, about going to the medical board, it was only because I was scared, and upset, and angry that he was hurting himself. I didn't even think he'd lose his kids. I can't go to the board, I can't do that to him, not after he's already been through the ringer. I thought maybe Jordan could talk to him. She's good at beating sense into people. I am too, but..but I don't have the balls to confront him.

I poured another glass of scotch.

The lock on the front door turned, and then the handle, and Jordan walked in, carrying groceries. She glared at me, as if saying, _thanks for helping, asshole_, then walked past me into the kitchen. She came back a minute later, plopped down on the couch next to me, and held her arms out to Jack. He squealed and laughed and crawled onto the couch to hug her.

"I talked to your girlfriend today," Jordan said, one arm around Jack as he cuddled against her, her other arm draped across her belly.

"How's he doing?" I asked, hoping I didn't sound too anxious. I _did _care for the kid, and Jordan knew that; it didn't mean I had to look totally gay when we talked about him.

"Not very well," she sighed, and leaned her head on my shoulder. I pushed her away slightly, put my arm around her shoulders, and pulled her against me. "I made him promise me to get help if he had suicidal thoughts. He promised, but he didn't mean it."

"Probably because he's already thinking them," I closed my eyes, feeling my stomach clench. I hope the kid didn't do anything stupid. Maybe I should find him.

"He looks really sick, Perry. I think you should maybe try to talk to him. I don't know how much good it'll do, because this is something he has to learn and he has to be able to grieve on his own. But he just looks like hell."

I finished my scotch. "I know he does. I don't know what I can do for him though. Everytime I try to be nice to someone, especially to Newbie, it comes out wrong and just makes people feel worse. When his dad died, I punched him in the face. I'm not good with these situations."

"You can't even try for once to put yourself in his shoes and let your guard down, not even for a second? You don't have to be all high and mighty, Perry, especially to DJ. He can read you like a book, and he lets you walk all over him because he knows that deep down, you _do _care, and you don't really hate him. He's your friend, isn't he?" Jordan asked me, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw her wipe a tear from her eyes. She was hurting over this, too. Damn that kid has a hold on everyone.

Jack jumped off the couch and pushed the button on his God damned toy again, causing another chorus of whatever _stupid _song that is.

My cell phone started ringing in my pocket. I grunted and pulled it out, looked at the caller ID, and answered the phone.

"Yes, Carla?" I asked, trying _hard _to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. It was my defense mechanism, and I didn't need to be defensive, at least not to her.

"Dr. Cox, I know that you probably don't want anything to do with this, but can you do me the biggest favor?" She sounded rushed. I could hear pages in the backround. She was at the hospital.

"I don't -"

She cut me off. Nobody cuts me off. "It's serious, Dr. Cox. Kelso won't let me or Turk off early, and we're really worried. We got a phone call from Kim. JD just came and saw her a few minutes ago, and he's snapped. We can't get a hold of Elliot, so we don't know if he's at home, but he's not answering our phone calls."

"What do you mean, he's snapped?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. I stood up from the couch, and made my way to my bedroom to get my jacket and shoes.

There was fumbling of the phone, and then Carla said something to someone around her. She came back on after a minute. "Sorry. Kim said that he's got cuts all over his arms, and he kept saying sorry. Like I said, he's snapped. She said he was completely unemotional. He just left her apartment about 15 minutes ago. Can you please go run to his house to check on him? Kim can't drive because of the surgery, and we're worried about him."

_Oh God. Cuts all over his arms?_

"Dammit, Carla, you know how busy I am.." I trailed off, grabbing my keys.

"Thank you. Please let me know when you find him."

I hung up the phone, and opened the front door of the apartment. I looked over my shoulder at Jordan, who was sitting on the couch, her arms crossed under her breasts, looking pissed and curious at the same time.

"There's an emergency at the hospital," I said to her. God, why couldn't I just tell her the truth? I WAS CHECKING ON NEWBIE. Just say it, Perry. Tell the woman you love you're checking on your friend. "I'll be back shortly, I promise."

Dammit, Perry.

* * *

I knocked on Newbie's door, _again_. There was no answer. No lights were on, at least from what I could see from the crack under the door. Which meant Barbie wasn't home, either. I didn't see Newbie's car in the parking lot, or else I'd bust this door down.

I picked up my cell phone and dialed his phone number. It rang through til the voicemail. I hung up. I called the hospital to talk to Carla.

"He's not here. Or, at least, he's not answering the door," I said when she answered. "Barbie isn't here, either."

"I got a hold of her. She said she's heading over there to see if he's inside." Carla sounded tired, and I felt for her.

"Is there anywhere else he could be?" I looked up and down the hallway, half expecting Newbie to jump around the corner with his goofy smile - the one I haven't seen in what seems like ages - and say JUST KIDDING PER!

"He could be at his piece of land. Or maybe at the bar. Otherwise, I don't know _where _he could be," there was someone talking in the backround, and she sighed. "I have to go. I guess, if Elliot's coming home, you can go home, too. I don't know what else we can do. I doubt Bambi would do anything, and I'm sure he's going to be fine, Kim just worried me a lot."

"Yeah, okay," I made my way back to the elevator to go downstairs to the parking lot. We hung up the phone, and I climbed into my car.

I gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead at the apartment building. _He has cuts all over his arms._ I should've been paying more attention. I should've been a better friend. He needed me. He was Newbie. He _always _needed me. Sadly, I've needed him. Life without Newbie is like..is like the sun without the moon. Or the moon without the stars. Life wouldn't be the same.

I turned on the car. I was going to find him tonight, even if I drove around all night looking.

I parked my car in the bar parking lot. I didn't see his car. My heart raced. I ran inside, looked around, and left. He wasn't there.

_Stay calm_ I kept telling myself. Freaking out and getting worked up was, one, _not _Perry Coxish, and two, _not _going to help this situation. I dialed Newbie's cell phone number again. It rang through til voicemail, again. I sent him a page from my pager. I paged Barbie, since I didn't have her number, and waited for her phone call in return. It was the longest 2 minutes _ever_. I just sat here, in my car, in front of the bar, watching people coming and going. Watching for Newbie.

My phone rang and I answered it, trying _desperately _not to sound panicked. Why was I panicking? Maybe it's because I knew, deep down, he wasn't okay. Or maybe because Carla wouldn't call me if she weren't worried. Maybe I cared too much about the kid.

"Did you find him?" Barbie asked me when I answered the phone. _Crap._

"No. He's not there?"

"No. Actually, there's a note here," she sounded tired, too. And like she was on the verge of tears. But, that's Barbie, she's always crying. "And his things are kind of packed up."

"What does it say?" I closed my eyes and squeezed the bridge of my nose. Every second was crucial. _He's snapped. Cuts all over his arms. There's a note. _

"It just says that he's leaving, and that he's sorry. Dr. Cox, I don't know if this is a joke, or if this is serious, but it sounds like a suicide note." I could almost hear the dam break and sobs began to come. God, Barbie, get a grip.

"Barbie, he's fine," I snapped, and started my car. I _had _to find him. "Do me a favor, though. Think of where he could be, and go there. I've checked the bar, and I'm on my way to his property. I really don't think he's snapped. He's probably just taking a break." _I hope that's what he's doing._

I hung up before she could cry, or sob, or sniffle to me anymore. I couldn't deal with my own emotions. This is why I love Jordan. She doesn't make me deal with her shit. This is why I could never, ever be with anyone else, as much as I loved - or thought I loved - other women in the past.

The drive to his property seemed like such a long one. It wasn't very far, but far enough that when I pulled up, behind Newbie's car, it felt like an eternaty had passed. I grabbed my keys out of the ignition, and tried not to run up to the front door. The house was almost done. The walls were put up. I didn't even bother to knock on the door, I just walked in. Good. If he were going to do something stupid, he would've locked the door, done everything to not be found in enough time.

The house was eerily quiet.

"Newbie?" I called out. There was no answer. My heart was pounding in my chest.

I walked through every room. Kitchen, living room, no sign of Newbie. Master bedroom. Master bathroom.

"JD?" I called out again, coming up to the last door in the hallway - the door was shut. I tried the handle; it was locked. "Are you in here, Newbie?" I pounded on the door. _Still _no answer. "I swear to the heavens, Newbie, if you don't open this -" I rammed my shoulder into the door, "fucking -" I rammed it again, "door -" I rammed it with my shoulder one last time, and the wood split. The door flew back.

"_Oh fuck JD," _I hissed under my breath, and ripped off my jacket, then my shirt. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed 911 as I ran across the room to his crumpled body. I fell to my knees.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"I need an ambulance. He's bleeding _everywhere_," I tried _so hard_ not to be hysterical. There was blood all around him. Was he even alive?

I felt for a pulse. Oh God, he's still with us.

"Where is he injured, sir?"

"He's cut his veins on his wrists. He's still breathing, but his pulse is slow. I don't know how long he's been here like this. He's not concious." The phone was cradled between my ear and shoulder, and I was ripping my shirt into strips, tying them tightly around his arms, trying to stop the bleeding. _Fuck_. His arms looked _horrible_.

I didn't know the address. I gave the 911 operator the cross streets. She wanted me to stay on the phone, but I hung up, telling her it was okay, I'm a doctor.

The pieces of tshirt were soaked through. His blood wasn't clotting. He must've taken asprin, or something, to thin it. He was getting cold. He was still breathing, but he was getting cold. I pulled him to my body, and held his head to my chest. I _wasn't _crying.

"Hang in there, " I said to him, holding back sobs. I wasn't crying. "You better _not fucking do this, Newbie_," I growled into his ear, hoping to God he heard me. "We're _all _counting on you. Do you hear me?"

The sirens were approaching. I held him as close and tight as I could, and closed my eyes. A sob escaped my throat. I should've gotten to him sooner. I shouldn't have ignored him. Yesterday at work - was it only yesterday? - I shouldn't have gotten mad at him. I should've taken him seriously.

"You're my friend, JD," I whispered, and I looked up at the ceiling of the unfinished house. "You took his kids. Don't take him."

I wanted to ride with the paramedics. They wouldn't let me. _But I'm a doctor_. They didn't care. Not right now, I'm not. Right now, I'm Newbie's friend, who found him half dead in his children's bedroom.

* * *

Oh no.

What's gonna happen?

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	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything.

* * *

**Still Dr. Cox POV**

I found a smelly shirt in the back of my car, with my gym bag. I threw it on, not caring if it was dirty. I had blood on my pants. I don't fucking care. I can't even dial the phone number to the hospital to let Carla know what's going on. Really, I should call Jordan at least.

But I didn't do anything. I sat on the porch of Newbie's house, and just stared at the cars parked out front - mine and his. Would he come back from this? Would he survive, and come home, and be able to drive again? Even if he did survive, he cut all the nerves on his arms. Would he even be able to be a doctor? Hold a pen?

God damn him. Damn him. How dare he be this selfish? What's worse is that I should've come straight here. If I'd come straight here, instead of screwing around at his apartment, or at the bar, he wouldn't have done it. I would've stopped him just in time.

The kid was dead, I knew it. There's no way he could survive after losing as much blood as he did. He's not going to survive.

My head fell into my hands, and I sobbed. I hate crying. I hate showing emotion. But I had JD's blood all over me. On my hands, my arms, my clothes. I felt disgusting, and I wanted to wash it all off.

My cell phone rang.

I fished it out of my pocket. I answered the phone.

This time, I don't care if the person on the other end knows I'm crying.

"Did you find JD?" Was the first thing Carla said when I answered.

"Yes," I said, my voice faltering.

"And?" She asked, and she was very, very quiet.

I think I'm going into shock. I can't be sure. "He's on his way to a hospital. I don't know which one. I assume there, since Sacred Heart is closest."

"Why?" She sounded panicked, now.

"He's bleeding. I couldn't get it to stop," I stared at the tops of my shoes. I needed a drink. Lord, I needed a drink. "His arms.."

"Oh, God, Dr. Cox, " she let out a cry. "Are you okay? Where are you?"

"I'm at his house still. I've got blood all over me."

"Call Jordan and have her pick you up. I'll let you know as soon as I find out where he is."

She hung up. She was taking this a lot better than I am. Probably because she didn't hold his all but lifeless body in her arms.

I ignored her suggestion to call Jordan. I didn't need to worry her. Instead, I got up, and made my way to my car. I was going to find Newbie, and as soon as he was stitched up, I was going to wring his fucking neck.

* * *

"You need to change, Perry, " Kelso said when he saw me walk into the ICU. "Some patients might recognize you, and I'm not going to allow this display affect their opinion of this place."

"Where is he?" I growled, lowering my face to his level.

"Who?"

Dammit.

"The kid! Where is he? Was he brought here?" I turned to the nurse's station. Carla wasn't there. "Laverne, Keith, _ANYONE_!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. Kelso was the only person in the room. But, within moments, a few nurses and interns popped up. "You, come here," I didn't wait for him to come to me, I went to him. "Where is Newbie, Keith?"

"He's in the OR, getting blood transfusions," Keith said, and for once, he didn't look afraid of me.

I was relieved, however. "So he's still alive. Good. When is he going to be moved up here?"

"I don't know."

"Perry -" Kelso started. I turned around to face him.

"Don't. I'm leaving," I looked up at Keith. "I'll be in the lounge. Find me when he's in recovery."

I threw some charts off the counter, for good measure, before making my way to the lounge. I was going to at least buy some scrubs to throw on, because I wasn't going to leave this hospital. I could always call Jordan to bring me clean clothes, but then she'd have to get Jack to the car, and she won't want to have to hassle with anything. I'd rather just save some drama for later in the evening. My days cannot be drama-free.

Thanks, Newbie.

Carla and Ghandi were in the lounge, silently staring at the blank TV. They looked up quickly when I walked into the room. They then seemed disappointed that it was me, and not someone with news for them.

"Oh my God," Carla said, looking me up and down.

"I told you," I snapped at her, and made my way into the adjacent room where a vending machine-type thing was. I took off my pants, and threw them into the opening of one side, and on the other side of the machine, grabbed a clean pair of pants. I was going to wear the smelly shirt. It didn't have blood on it, at least.

I walked through the lounge and out into the hallway, and then into the bathroom. I needed to wash this blood off my arms and hands.

I didn't _look _any different. Sure, people exaggerate and say, "by God, you look 10 years older!", but in reality, I just look tired. And that's because I _am _tired. And I had been drinking all day. My eyes were red rimmed, but when I've been drinking they always look like that. I washed my face anyway, to erase the possible tear stains that would be damning evidence if anyone saw it that shouldn't.

I finished up and walked back into the lounge. I flipped on the TV, and sat down at the end of the couch, ignoring the sudden angry looks Ghandi was giving me.

"Dude -"

"Shut it," I whipped my head around to face him. "I am _not _in the mood for your rambling bullshit. If you so much as make another sound, Ghandi, I will move you up to the number two spot on my list of people who deserve ass kickings. You'll get yours right after Newbie gets his. Hugh Jackman has been bumped from number 1 tonight, don't make me bump him to number 3 for you."

"Dr. Cox, maybe you -"

Carla closed her mouth when I turned my eyes to her.

"Maybe I should _what_, Carla? Shut off the TV so we can mope in silence? Run laps around the hospital to kill time? Run home, make sure my son hasn't crapped his bed, and make it back just in time for Scarlett's prognoses? _Please _enlighten me."

They both remained silent. They turned their eyes back to the TV. I shouldn't snap at them, really, and part of me felt kind of bad. But I couldn't act like this was the end, and we were waiting for devastating news. There _was _no end, not with Newbie. He was fine. He'd be fine.

So that's what we did. We sat in silence, watching the news, for a good forty five minutes before Carla's cell phone rang, jarring all of us from our thoughts.

"It's Elliot," she looked over at Turk, then stood up. "I'm going to take this in the on call room."

Once she left, Ghandi turned to me. The last thing I wanted was to talk to him. I couldn't even think straight right now. I just kept thinking, over and over again, of how Newbie looked, with blood all over him, all over the floor, dying right there.

"He's going to be okay, right?" Ghandi kept his voice low, so Carla couldn't hear the conversation, I guess. In all honesty, I didn't know whether the kid would pull through this one or not.

"There was a lot of blood, Ghandi," I didn't look at him. My eyes stayed glued to the TV screen.

"I heard someone saying that he didn't cut the artery."

"Even if he didn't cut it, he still lost a lot of blood." I finally turned my head and looked at him. He looked offended, yet had tears streaming down his face. "Ghandi, I've seen many failed suicide attempts in my career. Gun shot wounds to the head, where the guy ended up as a vegetable the rest of his life. People who poisoned themselves, but only managed to destroy their livers or kidneys before rushing themselves to the hospital to relieve the pain. The people who don't succeed, the ones who hint at doing it like Newbie did, those are the people who aren't totally, one hundred percent serious about it. Newbie doesn't want to die. It doesn't mean that he's going to live, though."

"I can't believe you're being so insensitive about this. I mean, be optimistic. Or try to be." Ghandi stood up and started pacing the floor in front of me.

"I'm not being insensitive. I'm being real, here. Your best friend is lying in the operating room, having his veins and arms completely stitched up. He's having many, many pints of blood transfused into his body as we speak. Even if he comes out of this alive, Turk, he might have complete nerve damage done to his arms. He might not ever be able to practice medicine again because of this fiasco. And if he is able to use his arms and hands properly, he'll have to go to months of therapy, perhaps years, to get over what has happened.

"But that's not the worst of it. You know as well as I do that he could have a severe reaction to the blood transfusion. He could get horribly sick from it. His liver can shut down. His body could reject the new blood." I had to swallow the bile that rose up in my throat. Saying everything out loud made it more real. I knew all these things, and I think Ghandi did, too. But to voice it, it made it more unbearable.

"Shut up." He said, clenching his fists. He'd stopped pacing.

"Do you want to know what I saw when I found him?" I snapped, standing up in front of him. I towered over him. "The blood that was all over the floor in what I'm only assuming was the room his kids were going to live in? Or maybe you'd like to know about his unconcious body, just lying on the floor, looking completely defeated?"

"You're a bastard." He took a step back, as if trying to fight the urge to hit me. Fine, let him hit me.

"You know what the worst of it is, Ghandi?" I asked, somewhat sarcastically, getting right up into his face. We were inches apart. "When I found him there, I took the shirt off my own back for the kid. He wouldn't stop bleeding, and I cried, Ghandi. I cried and begged that God didn't take his life. Do you know why that's so bad? I stopped believing in God a long, long time ago. You remember my sister, right? She'd shit herself if she found out what I did tonight, looking up at the big man up there.

"And when I cried to the big guy, I held Newbie to my body, as if that would do him any good. I've never, ever shown emotion for another human being like I did tonight. Now if you look me in the eye right now and tell me that I'm a bastard, you're right. But don't you dare act like I don't give a shit about Caroline."

Maybe I spilled too much information. I think I might still be in shock. Or I'm going through a grieving stage. I can't believe I'm grieving over Newbie, not before he's dead.

Someone behind me cleared their throat. I turned my head, forgetting completely that Carla had left the room to use the phone. She stood in the doorway, her arms folded. Keith stood next to her, with a patient chart in his hands.

"Elliot is on her way down here," Carla said, as if she heard nothing. I know she heard everything.

"And JD's out of surgery, on his way to recovery. But nobody can see him yet. They want to make sure he doesn't have any reactions to the blood." Keith said after Carla was finished.

I wanted to growl. I wanted to punch someone in the face. Hell, I wanted to dance, because Newbie made it out okay, so far.

"And a psychologist consult?" I asked, reaching out for Newbie's chat. Keith didn't hand it over, however.

"All of that will be taken care of tomorrow morning."

"When can we see him?" Ghandi asked from behind me.

Keith shrugged. Some doctor he was going to be. Not giving us the answers we want. Although, as a doctor myself, I knew what Keith was doing was, well, what we all did. "As soon as his doctor OKs visitors. You might want to hang out downstairs in the caf, or go home or something. He might be a while under observation."

"We'll be here." I pulled out my cell phone, and turned my attention to Carla. "I have a phone call I have to make. Let me know if something happens before I come back."

I left the lounge and made my way to the elevator. I needed some fresh air, and I was going to call my sister. Deep down, I really wanted her to pray tonight.

* * *

Almost an hour and a half passed since I'd stepped out to call my sister. We talked for an hour, while I sat in my car, keeping my phone on the car charger. I admit - I cried to her, and I asked her questions she had no answers to. We talked about our mom, and how her suicide was successful because of one thing: she wanted to die. It's true that Newbie wasn't entirely serious - he would've packed up all his belongings, he would've gone somewhere where he wouldn't be found immediately. He was crying out for attention, and in all honesty, I can't blame the kid, not at all.

Then, I called Jordan. I let her know everything that was going on.

"He'll be fine, Perry," was all she was able to say to me. "DJ is a strong kid."

"I don't know when I'll be home tonight, I'm sorry," I told her, and she said something she rarely ever says. Or means, for that matter.

"It's okay. Be there as long as you need. I love you."

"Thank you Jordan," I said, then hung up the phone.

I hadn't gotten a call from Carla. An hour and a half is entirely too long for there to be no word. We should've heard something by now - unless he's crashing. Then they wouldn't tell us until after the fact. That's protocol. You don't tell a family member or friend that the patient is dying _while _they're dying. You tell them _after _they die, or after you stabilize them.

I had to stop myself from all but running back inside the hospital. I was starting to panic again. And I really did panic when nobody was in the lounge.

I got to the nurse's station and found an intern. "Hey, where's JD's room?" I figured it was best to avoid all confusion if I called him Newbie or Penny.

"210." The intern answered after he shuffled through charts real fast. "And he can have visitors now."

The panic was gone. If he could have visitors he was doing okay. Damn this kid for giving me heart attacks. Maybe Jordan's right - my anger and anxiety is too high. Maybe I should get some kind of help for that. Oh, wait, I tried that.

I didn't go inside Newbie's room when I got to it. Instead, I just looked through the window at him. He was unconcious, still. Barbie, Carla, and Turk were all sitting around his bed, and they were all crying. His arms were bandaged up in gauze, and he had an IV in the crook of his elbow. He better be careful when he wakes up, because if he tries to move that arm he's going to regret it when that needle moves.

Newbie was okay, then. I didn't need to read his chart, or ask anyone what was going on with him. He was breathing, he was bandaged, he was alive. That's all that matters.

Now, when I see him tomorrow, I'm going to kick his ass, _hard_.

* * *

Did you all see the season premier last night? I tivo-d it, so I'll re-watch it later (just in case I missed a funny part, of course). I wanted to hit JD for being such an ass...but I wasn't surprised, because he's a guy and guys behave like that.

Poor Kim.

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	5. Chapter 5

**JD's POV**

My mind is fuzzy, and I can hear people shuffling around. I don't open my eyes; instead, I try to think of where the hell I am. I feel like I'm floating - the effects of tranquilizers and pain medications. My eyes fly open, and I stare up at a white ceiling. I move my fingers, and pain shoots up my arms.

_Oh, right_.

I turn my head to the right, and my eyes take a moment to focus on Turk, who's sitting beside my bed, watching TV with the volume very, very low. I move my eyes to the TV.

"Gilmore Girls, right on."

Turk moves the entire chair to face me. His eyes are huge, and I can tell he's been crying.

"JD, thank God," he said, and put his head in his hands. He let out a long sigh. "I've been here all night, waiting for you to wake up. How are you feeling?"

How am I feeling? I tried to kill myself and somehow - dammit - I didn't succeed. And now my arms were burning from what I can only assume are stitches and maybe even developing infection. "I feel like a new person."

"You worried the hell out of us," Turk gave me a smile. He didn't know how to act, I guess.

"Who found me?" I asked. Whoever it was would have to answer to me. This is a bunch of bullshit.

Turk looked down at the bed and picked at the blanket. "Dr. Cox," he muttered.

"Oh, fan_fucking_tastic," I sighed. I wouldn't be able to kick his ass, healing arms or not. "And let me guess, he's at a board meeting right now, telling them how incompetent I am, and -"

"No, dude, he's not," Turk shook his head. "He went home to get some rest. He was here half the night, making sure you were taken care of. He was really upset, JD."

Yeah, sure.

Turk reads minds, because he went on. "Really, he was. I'm sure he doesn't want me to tell you this, but," Turk leaned closer, and looked over his shoulder to make sure Dr. Cox wasn't around. He lowered his voice anyway. "The guy was crying, and he said he prayed to God you wouldn't die."

So this is God's fault. Great. If Dr. Cox hadn't prayed then I wouldn't be here still. Figures. It's like when you have one good wish and you save it for the right moment. He had one good prayer and he wasted it on me.

The door flew open and banged off the wall. I flinched and Turk spun around. Dr. Cox stood in the door with his arms crossed, and he looked furious.

"Out, Ghandi. I need to talk to Clarice," he said, and grabbed the back of Turk's chair. Turk jumped up, and with a shrug and a thumbs up at me, he left the room. Dr. Cox sat down in the chair beside my bed. Oh, please kill me.

"What the _hell _were you thinking?!" He asked, his arms folded against his chest again. "Do you know what the hell I had to miss because of you?"

"Yeah, well, you wasted a good prayer on me," I snapped and tried to fold my arms as well, but pain shot up them and I let out a small gasp. I let my hands fall back into my lap, and looked away from Dr. Cox. How embarrassing. I can't even fold my arms. Tears pricked my eyes, and I knew the last thing I wanted to do was cry in front of Dr. Cox. I'm just so ashamed of myself.

"Hey," Dr. Cox said, his tone softer but still bitter and angry. "Newbie, I didn't waste anything on you."

"What did you have to miss because of me?" I asked, trying to be sarcastic, trying for the life of me to stay angry. I don't want to break down in front of him.

"A sports game, but it's not important. Look," Dr. Cox touched my shoulder, and I looked over at him. I hoped it wasn't evident that there were tears in my eyes. He looked less angry, and I saw something in his face that I hardly ever saw - sorrow. "I was afraid of life without Newbie. I know that you're probably really ashamed, and embarrassed, and guilty, and angry, and all kinds of things right now, but you've got people around you that are willing to help you."

"I hate you," I spat out at him, and a tear fell from my eye. I tried to lift my arm to wipe it away, but my arm hurt so bad I let out a sob and more tears fell. "I hate you for doing this to me. Why couldn't you just let me die? This isn't what I want, and I'm just going to try it again when I'm out of here."

"That's it," he stood up and walked to the door. He threw it open and grabbed Keith. He brought him into the room. "JD's on suicide watch for the next 72 hours. You don't let him out of this room, you don't discharge him, you don't leave anything in here that he can hurt himself with. Am I clear on this, Keith?"

"Yes, sir," Keith looked at me with sympathetic eyes. I didn't want his sympathy.

I was furious with Dr. Cox.

"That means he gets no more IVs for pain, nor for water. He will have to drink water out of a cup like the big boys do."

"Yes, sir," Keith made his way over to me, and I clenched my fists. God, that hurt.

"Don't touch me, Keith," I said through clenched teeth.

Keith looked up at Dr. Cox questioningly. Dr. Cox walked over to the side of the bed and folded his arms, then nodded. Keith grabbed gloves, put them on, then put his hands on my left arm. I yanked my arm out of his grasp, and hissed slightly; the pain is unbearable.

Hands on my shoulders forced me back against the bed, and I stared up at Dr. Cox, who was staring at Keith.

"Do it. Take out the IVs."

Keith turned off the drips. He took the tape off my arm, where the IV needle was stuck in my elbow, and removed the needle. He put a cotton ball on my arm, then taped it up. Dr. Cox kept his hands on my shoulders the entire time.

Once Keith left, Dr. Cox let go of my shoulders. He slammed the door shut again.

"Here's the deal," Dr. Cox pulled the chair up again and rested his elbows on the side of my bed. "You're going to start eating meals again. You're going to start seeing a psychologist. A consult is coming up shortly. You will _remain _in treatment for at least a year. This isn't _my _decision, by the way. You have to do this, or else Kelso is letting you go because you're now considered a danger to not only yourself, but your patients. You will go through with all of this, so help me God, Newbie. If you _don't _start eating properly, " he stood up and leaned over me, reaching for the rolly table that had a tray on it on the other side of my bed. He pulled it over my lap and lifted the lid that was on top of the tray. There was a plate of vegetables and bread. "We are already prepared to keep you in here longer, make you seek treatment for anorexia and/or bulemia, and we will put a feeding tube in you."

He sat back and crossed his arms again. I stared down at the food. I wasn't hungry. Even if I was, I couldn't lift my arms to feed myself. My arms hurt too badly.

"Well?"

"I can't," I whispered, and once again, that shame filled me. I didn't want to disappoint anyone - I really didn't. I failed at suicide, and now I can't even feed myself.

Dr. Cox stood up and made his way to the door. I didn't want a feeding tube.

"No, Dr. Cox," I said, stopping him in his tracks. He looked over his shoulder at me. "I can't move my arms, it hurts too much."

"Okay Newbie," he nodded and shut the blinds on all of the windows in the room. He made his way back to the bed. "You swear you'll eat?"

"As much as I can, yes." I felt awful, and lowered my eyes to the plate. I didn't want to be under his watch.

He picked up the fork, stabbed a piece of brocolli, and held it in front of my mouth. Was he seriously going to _feed _me? I closed my eyes, my face burning in embarrassment, and opened my mouth. He put the fork in it, and I started chewing the food.

"This is more embarrassing for me than it is for you, Layla," he said, stabbing a carrot with the fork. I swallowed the brocolli and held my breath, trying to stop tears from coming again. I opened my mouth, and waited for the carrot.

After a few minutes of silence, and more pieces of food, I forced myself to look up at his face. "Why did you come for me?"

"Because, " he sighed, and ripped a piece of bread from the slice and popped it into my mouth. "I got a call from Carla, who had gotten a call from Kim," figures she ratted me out. "I was worried."

"Why couldn't you just leave me?" My voice cracked and I lowered my gaze once again to my lap. A few tears fell from my eyes.

"I don't believe in God, Newbie, but I believe that if you commit suicide, you don't get to go where the good people go. I don't necessarily believe in Heaven and Hell, but I believe that your kids are waiting for you somewhere. The last thing you want to do is selfishly kill yourself so you'll never, ever get to see them again."

He had a point. It didn't mean I didn't still hate him for it.

I finished eating everything that was on the plate. I was full, and it was only about half of an actual meal. But it was a start, and I did kind of feel better. I laid back against the pillows and closed my eyes, suddenly feeling drained and tired. I felt cold, too. I pulled the blanket up around my neck and rolled onto my side, getting comfortable. I struggled, and my arms ached, but I did it. I opened my eyes and looked up at Dr. Cox, who was sitting back with his hands behind his head, staring right back at me.

"You're still at risk for infection from the blood transfusion. Let me know if you're feeling woozy or anything," he said, and the tone in his voice said _don't fuck with me, Newbie_.

"Maybe," I mumbled, closing my eyes. Maybe, if I did get sick, or if I did get an infection, I could pretend I was feeling fine until it was too late to treat me, and I die 'naturally'. There's a loophole into Heaven that I can deal with. Partial-suicide, wouldn't that be?

I felt his hand on my forehead. I know I don't have a fever.

"You're a bit warm. We'll just keep an eye on you there, Newbie. Get some rest. You're going to have plenty of excitement in the next few hours."

I fell asleep soon after those words left his mouth.

* * *

I remember someone shaking me, forcefully dragging me from my dreamless sleep. I moaned and tried to swat the person's hands from my shoulder. My arm started stinging - _badly_ - and I moaned even more. I groggily opened my eyes, but it was a struggle. I reached for the blanket at the foot of my bed, trying to pull it up around my shoulders. Why the hell was it so _bright _in here? And why wouldn't anyone let me put my blanket on?

I squinted up, but my eyes refused to focus on the person above me.

Whoever was shaking me suddenly pushed me onto my back. I groaned, trying to move my arms, which were suddenly pinned down.

"Lemmego," I muttered. What the hell was going on? Where was I?

"He's having an anaphylactic reaction," I heard someone above me say as my mouth was covered. I felt air being forced into my mouth. The doctor in the back of my head told me I'm being given oxygen.

"BP is 90 over 50," someone else said. My eyes refused to stay open; it was too damn bright in the room.

"Stay with me, kid, stay with me," someone started slapping my face, just hard enough to piss me off. I groaned and tried to open my eyes. "That's it, stay awake, come on."

I tried to listen.

But my eyes hurt too much to keep open. And I couldn't listen to whoever that was anymore.

* * *

Sorry it took me so long to get this out. Damn computer. Damn pregnancy induced back pain. Damn headaches.

I feel this story is crapping out. I dunno what to do anymore.


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